


Jar of Hearts

by anyothergirl415



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Schmoop, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-07
Updated: 2010-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:18:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyothergirl415/pseuds/anyothergirl415
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was always this way for Sam, always just the side of a little more fucked up than everyone else. So this thing with his brother? Late night phone calls and conversations spanning over anything and everything, that was normal too right? Probably not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had all really started years ago, back when Sam was old enough to know better but young enough to still use ignorance as an excuse. As if having these kinds of feelings, thinking these kinds of things, could still be written off to young boy fantasies. It couldn’t possibly ever be that simple, even at that age Sam knew it. But when you lived the life they did, the strangest things became normal.

He used to cry about it. Not with weeping sobs or anything that would get him mocked and teased but late at night and silently. He used to listen to Dean’s gentle wheeze, stare through the moonlight at the place the blanket had slid down along sculpted abs, staring at seemingly creamy skin though he knew in sunlight it was tan. And big silent tears would roll down his cheeks as his hand crept beneath his boxers and stroked his dick weeping in a different manner. Because he just wasn’t strong enough to resist.

Afterward he’d wipe his hand on the sheet and watch Dean continue to sleep and wonder if they made special places in hell for boys that fell in love with their big brothers.

In the end, it was more than half the reason he left. Though no one knew that of course. In the eyes of his dad he was running away and abandoning them. In the eyes of his brother he couldn’t say because Dean just shrugged when Sam asked him if it was okay. Those were the moments that killed him the most.

It had been a simple question. “Dean, will you visit me when I’m at school?” Sam had asked late at night when staring at the ceiling got to be too much and the lack of wheeze to Dean’s exhale said he was still awake.

There was an extended silence in the dark of their shared bedroom before Dean’s bed creaked as he rolled away. “It’s late Sam. Go to sleep.”

Just Sam, not ever Sammy anymore. For all the times Sam complained about the childish nickname he missed it all the same. Strange how six words could cut through his heart and break him down, force him to roll away just to hide the tears in his eyes. Sam had owned the same fluffy pillow with the blue cover since he was ten, carrying it from house to apartment to motel room and back, and he thought maybe it had soaked up enough tears to fill a small lake. Or make a giant ocean full of shame and embarrassment and a need never explained.

So Sam turned eighteen and graduated from high school and that August he moved to California. He didn’t have much, never really had, and Dean drove him to the bus station, waiting around for the Greyhound to pick up. Their dad had left the week before, telling Dean he’d see him soon, looking at Sam as he said goodbye without so much as a hug. It perfectly set the tone of departure in Sam’s eyes.

When the bus pulled up Sam stared, idly wondering if the ache in his chest meant his heart was breaking. His eyes drifted inevitably over to his brother. Dean’s jaw was clenched and sunglasses hid his eyes and Sam had never felt more alone.

“I’ll call you.” He offered quietly, shifting the duffel bag on his shoulder, the bus ticket in his hand. Anything to preoccupy the part of his soul that was screaming out for Dean to beg him not to go.

“Have a safe trip.” Dean said just as softly, a level of flatness to his voice that Sam usually only heard when his brother was addressing someone he didn’t want to deal with.

They didn’t hug, didn’t touch, Sam waited around for a few minutes hoping the offer of affection would be extended. Then the driver appeared calling for anyone else and Sam didn’t have much of a choice but to go. “Dean?” He stepped away but kept his eyes fixed on his brother, sharp tears pricking along his eyes.

“Go on Sam. Do what you gotta do.” Dean rolled his shoulders back, stance stiffening before he turned and walked away.

Maybe it was better Sam didn’t have to watch his brother driving away. Safely encased in the too small seat at the back of the bus Sam could close his eyes and pretend this was for the best. It was, in some ways. Mostly though, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything he loved and cared for was being left behind. Sam would start a new life in California, even if it killed him.

-=-=-=-

Time had this funny way of slipping away from Sam. Especially when his days were jam-packed with classes and homework and attempts at friendships. His first year he shared a dorm with a kid named Jeremy and they didn’t have much in common but got along none the less. Sam was used to getting along with people he didn’t have things in common with, after all, no one’s life was like his. Except Dean’s.

His big brother that was god knows where. The same guy he talked to maybe once or twice the first six months, the one he left a voicemail for on Christmas and New Years and his birthday the following month. Dean didn’t call him back until late at night when Sam was asleep. In the morning he had a voicemail with a minute of quiet breathing before a barely whispered _I miss you Sam._

It shook him to his core, throwing off everything Sam worked so hard to establish in six months of being away from home. It was almost enough to have Sam renting a car and tracking his brother down because the note of desperation was too thick to ignore. But a few days later Dean called again, chuckling softly and shrugging off the message like it didn’t even exist.

Sam had the message saved so he knew it existed and sometimes when everything became too much he’d listen to it. Just to know that somewhere out there, there was a person who cared. Even if it was never the way Sam wanted.

Dean called two more times that year, on Sam’s birthday and in the middle of the summer shortly after Sam had gotten himself a small one bedroom apartment and a part time job at the animal shelter. Neither conversation was very long and Sam got the sense that Dean made the calls out of obligation alone. It was still good to hear his brother’s voice.

Then it all changed quite suddenly, though Sam was too shocked at the time to really notice. It was a Thursday night and he’d just gotten in from his Beginner’s Law class. There were thirty pages of text to be read before his class tomorrow so Sam settled in on the couch with a box of Chinese food take out and his book, ready to force himself to pay attention to influential cases of the last three decades.

It wasn’t all that surprising for his phone to ring, Sam had a pretty solid group of friend’s and at any given time they’d call for random help on math assignments or to rope him into coming to whatever party was on that weekend. Sam didn’t even look at the caller ID before answering, propping the phone between his shoulder and his ear and grumbling a hello around bites of orange chicken and fried rice.

“Sam?” Dean’s voice was slightly staticy through the line and something was beeping in the background.

It was so weirdly random to hear his brother’s word that Sam fumbled with the phone and glanced down at it, not knowing the number across the line. “Dean? What’s up?”

“Ah you know, same old.” Dean’s voice broke on a cough and the beeping in the background picked up.

“Dean? What’s going on? Are you okay?” Sam was neither dumb nor in denial about what that noise was. He’d been in enough hospitals – as a patient and a visitor – to easily put the pieces together. “What the hell happened?”

“Nothing Sam. Nothing.” Dean sounded sleepy and worn down but his voice was smoother like the pause before he answered had been him taking a drink of water. “Just slipped up. Got a little careless. I’m fine.”

For Dean to be calling him was odd enough, for it to be happening from a hospital meant that he couldn’t possibly be as fine as he tried to get Sam to believe. “Tell me what happened.”

“Bad hunt Sam. That’s all. Doctor says I’ll be fine.” Dean sighed like Sam was annoying him for caring enough to ask. “How are you?”

At this point Sam had a couple of options. If he kept pestering his brother over his injury it would only annoy him further and the phone call would likely end with the man hanging up on him. Or Sam could just let it go. Sam really wanted to talk to his brother so the choice wasn’t that hard to make. “I’m okay. Reading for school. Eatin’ dinner.”

“Is it dinner time? Huh.” Dean chuckled softly and Sam could hear the rustle of sheets in the background. “Hey you know what? I won six hundred dollars last week in a game of poker. They never knew what hit them.”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh at this. Leave it to his brother to be so excited over something like winning a big jackpot in a poker game. Add it to the list of a million reasons why Sam loved his brother more than he should. Even the little things about him made Sam smile. “Did you get them with the ol’ I don’t know a Jack from a Queen bit?”

Hearing Dean join in the laughter made Sam’s heart swell in a way it hadn’t for years. “Was two hundred down then bluffed my way through to the best jackpot imaginable. Good timing really.”

“How so?” Sam was actually a little surprised this conversation was still happening, more than five minutes for one phone call had to be some kind of record for them.

“Just is. How’s your place workin’ out?”

Sam slid the law book from his lap and looked around at his small living room; the entire apartment was maybe the size of one of the motel rooms they’d frequented growing up. But Sam kind of loved it because it was _his_. “It’s quiet. Good though. Better than the dorms.”

“You still hang out with that Jeremy kid?” Dean’s tone was sleepier now Sam could all too easily imagine him laying there on his back under crisp white hospital sheets with his eyes closed, shifting around to try and get comfortable in the pale blue hospital gowns he’d always hated wearing.

“I’m surprised you remembered his name. But nah, not so much. We’re different majors, different crowds.” Sam considered telling Dean about his friends, the kind of people that he associated with now. Dean would probably just make fun of them though so he didn’t.

“Still gonna put the bad guys behind bars?” Dean murmured, voice dropping an octave like he was slipping into sleep as they spoke.

The low timbre of Dean’s voice sparked heat up in Sam. It shouldn’t have but there it was, that unavoidable dirty little part of him that no amount of miles could ease. “Definitely. You going to be okay Dean?”

“For sure Sam. Just gonna sleep it off. It’ll all be better in the morning.”

It was a naive way to think, that a little sleep would make all the world’s problems better, but it was classic Winchester and Sam nodded even if his brother couldn’t see him. “You need anything?”

A few beats of silence passed and Sam held his breath, ready to do absolutely anything Dean requested of him. More than a year since they’d last seen each other and Sam was still just as caught up as he’d always been. “No Sam, I’m okay. I’ll talk to you soon.”

The line dropped before Sam could consider whether his brother meant that or not. Maybe he wouldn’t hear from him for another few months, maybe longer, it drove Sam crazy not knowing but he could look at the little things. Like the seemingly random conversation that came out of nowhere.

When Sam dropped his phone to the side he was half hard and disgusted with himself. He wondered what a therapist would say if he sought help for his problem. They’d probably lock him up.

-=-=-=-

The next call came three days later in the middle of the night. Sam was sprawled out on his mattress, head buried in the pillow, dreaming about that summer when he was thirteen and he and Dean had spent more than half the warm sunshiny days in the lake. It was one of the first times Sam had realized that there was hardly anything more beautiful that Dean’s lips sparkling from dewed water droplets and beams of sunlight.

His dream did one of those weird things were real life mashed with the too bright Technicolor of his and Dean’s lake. Dean’s mouth opened up like he was going to shout at Sam to hurry up but instead of words he rang. Sam’s steps on the shore slowed, eyes fluttering a few times in confusion. Dean didn’t seem to notice though, just opened his mouth and rang once more.

Then Sam was actually opening his eyes and he was back in his apartment. The ringing came again and he groaned, rolling over to slap at the phone. The clock said it was after two and Sam had a massive exam in the morning that he’d been studying for until almost one. “What?” He grumbled into the line, not even bothering to hide his clear distaste for whoever was calling.

“Sam? Shit. Did I wake you?”

Dean.

Sam’s eyes opened again this time a little more willingly and he shifted under his blankets to try and free himself. “Dean? Yeah man it’s after two.”

“Oh. I didn’t know. Sorry, forget it. Go back to sleep.” Dean sounded incredibly wide awake and sad, his tone too melancholy to be ignored.

“It’s fine. What’s going on? Are you okay?” Because why else would his brother be calling him at such an ungodly hour? Even if he was on the other side of the country it’d still be five AM. Dean didn’t get out of bed before ten if he could help it.

“Yeah yeah, I’m good. I got out of the hospital earlier, just, you know. In case you were worrying about me because you always do.”

True, Sam had been worrying about his brother in the hospital and all alone but that wasn’t something he was going to admit too. “You feeling okay?”

“I- yeah. Definitely. Look I’m sorry I called so late, I didn’t see what time it was.” Dean laughed then but it sounded hollow and weird, a joke Sam was missing somehow.

Sighing quietly, Sam rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, listening to Dean’s laugh trail off into a slight intake of breath. “It’s okay. You can call whenever.” Which was true, knowing it was Dean on the line made it impossible for Sam to be angry anymore about having his sleep interrupted.

“Remember your tenth birthday? When I stole you donuts from that bakery? Where were we then? Kansas?”

A small smile tugged at Sam’s lips and he hummed softly before answering. “Kentucky. Dad was looking into that case about the supposed headless horseman.”

Dean laughed, the noise crystal clear and bursting across the line. “Fuck yeah. You got so freaked out you slept in my bed the whole time.”

It was impossible not to laugh as well and Sam flopped over onto his back, sprawling a hand out on his stomach. “Shut up I did not. You made me come sleep in your bed because you were scared.”

“Whatever Sammy you were stuck to me like my own personal Siamese twin the entire time we were there.” Dean’s following laugh was interrupted by a sharp cough than the pause of silence while he presumably took a drink. “Remember Arkansas?”

“With the possessed doll?”

“Chucky.”

“It was not Chucky.”

“Was too. Got you to throw out all your toys after.”

“Because you made me think G.I. Joe was gonna use his machine gun on me once the lights were out.”

Another burst of laughter from his brother filled the line and Sam’s grin was bigger than it had been in the year and a half since he’d left home. Probably even longer. “What’s with the walk down memory lane?”

“Just thinkin’ about some of the cases over the years. Sometimes even the smallest ones can be life changing.” Dean sighed quietly and Sam could imagine him shaking his head and rubbing at his brow. “You ever wish…”

Dean didn’t have to finish the question for Sam to know what it was. They’d had this conversation a hundred times before. It was a well scripted play that Sam had played part in over and over. “Nah. Maybe a little, but, not so much anymore.” That wasn’t the line he was supposed to say.

It caused the silence to stretch out between them. Clearly Dean had been expecting the usual _all the time_ to which he’d answer that every life happened for a reason and their destiny was written out by the death of their mother. “I do.”

Sam’s eyes opened to the slate white ceiling and the dark that didn’t house the wheeze of his brother sleeping but still kept the secrets he wouldn’t address. “You don’t have to-“

“No Sam. That’s not- it’s.” Dean inhaled shakily and Sam knew there was something more to all of this but he couldn’t place it. “You just keep doing what you do and it takes you wherever.”

“Dean,” Sam felt tears in his eyes because sure Dean could say that and maybe he meant it but Sam still knew him well enough to know that every word was covered with sadness. Like a stack of bricks pushing in on his chest.

“Don’t worry about it Sam. Get some sleep.”

That was it, Dean putting his foot down and successfully ceasing the conversation. Sam could push the conversation but it would get him nowhere real fast. “Alright. Take care Dean.”

“Sam?” This time Dean’s call of his name was almost a whisper, tight and nervous. Though what Dean could have to be nervous about was beyond Sam. “Can I call you tomorrow?”

Something pinched in Sam’s heart and he held his breath for a long moment, letting the feelings settle over him. “Yeah Dean. Just, try not to in the middle of the night.”

Dean chuckled again. “Yeah, okay. Talk to you then.”

“Definitely.”

Sam dropped the phone back onto the nightstand and flopped back onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. Dean’s voice was echoing in his ears, his quiet and gentle laugh, and the warmth of memories flickering through his subconscious. Lips pressing hard together Sam shifted under his blankets and slid his hand down, dipping under his boxers to curl his fingers around his half hard cock.

God. He was seriously fucked up.

-=-=-=-

Like Dean had said, he did call the following day. Somehow he even managed to time it just as Sam was leaving his business math class and pulling the device out of his pocket to check. Sam smiled at the caller ID and his brother’s name before answering.

“Caught me just as I’m leaving class,” he said as a greeting, shuffling his books in his arms and smiling at the girl holding the door open for him.

“Oh yeah? Learning how to lock ‘em up good?” Dean sounded sleepy like he’d woken from a dead sleep to call. Or he could just be tired considering the time it was when he called that morning.

Sam was still dealing with the after affects from that. “Nah. Learning how to add and subtract.”

“What the fuck?” Dean laughed deep and throaty into the line. Sam could listen to it for hours even if he was marveling that he was hearing it for a second time in less than twenty four hours. “That what you pay big bucks for?”

“Technically, I don’t pay anything. Scholarship covers most and financial aid does the rest. I’m saving up to buy a car.” For some reason Sam thought Dean might be proud of him for that and he pressed the phone tighter to his ear as he crossed the campus and listened intently for the response.

“Fuck you’ll probably end up with a Prius or something equally ridiculous.” Dean huffed but Sam could hear the note of fondness.

It felt good, really good, to still be able to pick up on those subtle little details. “I am _not_ going to buy a Prius. Just because I live in California does not mean I’m _from_ here. Nah, I’m thinking a truck. Something big. Grown a couple inches.”

“Fuck really? What are you now? Seven foot? Eight? They got special circuses for people like you.” Dean’s teasing was natural, a familiar banter between them that made Sam feel like they last few years hadn’t happened.

There had to be a catch, he wasn’t foolish enough to think his luck was finally turning around to give him a bond with his big brother that he’d always wanted. Okay, maybe not the right kind of bond but this one would be good too. “Ha ha. You’re so funny Dean.”

“I should get a stand up gig.” There was no laugh with this, something vague and wistful with the words.

Not for the first time Sam wondered what else was happening in Dean’s world. Three phone calls in a week, more than he’d had combined in the year before. It wasn’t like Dean suddenly had a crisis of conscience where he realized not looking after his baby brother was shit of him. Unless he did, then Sam would appropriate be annoyed. If at any point during his new life he needed Dean most it would have been his freshman year when he was all alone and more scared than he’d care to admit.

“I’m missing something aren’t I?” Sam’s steps hesitated, eyes drifting from the path that led to his next class and the one back to his apartment. Skipping class wasn’t his thing but maybe if Dean wanted to talk longer. Dean was worth skipping classes for.

“Not really. You going somewhere?”

Sam sighed and turned for his next classroom. “Yeah. Human Studies. You’d like it, basically sex 101.”

“Fuck. They really teach that? Good, you could use it.” Dean was teasing again, laughing at his words like he was proud of them.

Knowing his brother, he was. “God you’re just on a roll today huh?”

“Aw don’t be butt hurt Sam. Want me to stroke your ego instead?”

Sam could have gone the rest of his life without hearing his brother say _stroke_ like that. “Uh. Class.”

“Right, go learn about pussy. I’ll talk to you tonight?” Dean was asking again, as if Sam would ever say no.

He stopped in front of the Human Studies building and clenched his books tighter. “Yeah? Okay. Tonight then.”

“Later Sam.”

The line clicked off in his ear and Sam was stuck for a moment reminding himself that he was at school, in California, god knows how many miles from his brother. It didn’t make his heart stop racing and his blood slow back to normal. Why was this even happening?

-=-=-=-

True to his word, Dean called that night just as Sam was climbing into bed. He’d kind of been thinking it was too good to be true, like Dean was going to blow him off again. Sam figured that it would be over just as fast as it started. Except his phone was ringing again and it was the Charlie’s Angels theme song because Sam wanted something free to download that knew would remind him of his brother.

Why he chose Charlie’s Angels? All you had to do was meet Dean and know the answer to that. Maybe one day he’d tell Dean about it and Sam was pretty sure his brother would appreciate the irony. “Sup?” He was going for casual, it sounded lame. Sam managed not to wince though so he considered that a bonus.

“Really? Did you just say that to me? California is rubbing off on you. Prius Sammy. Prius.” Dean chuckled.

Instantly Sam was trying to determine if he sounded more tired, less tired, happier, sadder. How much could you really tell about a person by their tone of voice? It was Dean, Sam was pretty sure he could tell everything if he listened hard enough. “Fuck you.” He said with a grin and dropped down onto his bed. No, it wasn’t weird to lie in bed while talking to his brother.

In fact it was weirder to be talking to him for the third time that day than sliding between his sheets and getting comfortable. Sam already knew all the reasons that was probably fucked up. “How’s dad?” He asked because he hadn’t during any other call. It was a fine line, could go either way, but Sam was trying.

“Last time we spoke he seemed okay. You know, he’s dad. He does what he does and that’s how he’ll always be.” There was definitely a note of dismissal to the words.

So they weren’t talking about it and _fine_ , Sam didn’t really want to talk about their dad anyway. If he missed him then, he’d just keep it to himself. “Where are you anyway?”

“A motel room.” The _duh_ didn’t need to be said, just like Sam was pretty sure his brother was rolling his eyes.

Sam did likewise, wondering if Dean knew he was. “I mean what city asshole.”

“Stanley, Idaho. Home of cowboys, potatoes and a water ghost that likes to drown mourning widows.”

That was so _Dean_ Sam was torn between a smile and a look somewhere close to disbelief. “Water ghost?”

“Yup. Dead now though. Fucker.” Dean grunted and in the background Sam could hear the creak of bed springs.

For some reason knowing Dean was lying down too did things to Sam that really shouldn’t be happening. His fingers slid over his bare chest and lower still, even as his mind screamed _don’t you dare_. “Tell me about it.”

“What, the hunt?” Dean chuckled quietly and Sam’s fingers slid just under his boxers. _So bad_. “Well I guess this lake monster thing, he once was human. And twenty or so years ago his wife went all batshit insane and thought he was cheating on her whenever he went out to fish. So she followed him one day to spy.”

“Was he?” It was all Sam could manage to get out without sounding breathless. Because his fingers had kept gravitating down and the low timbre of Dean’s voice was accompanying the slow loose curl of his fingers.

“Cheating on her? No. She was insane with the idea though. She ended up tying their boats together, climbing onto his and drowning him over the side. So, fast forward to now. He was taking out his revenge on widows, because spirits you know? Can’t decipher the truths about things.”

This was so messed up. Sam was stroking his cock while listening to his brother talk about fucking water ghosts drowning widows. And really it was the last part that was more disturbing. “City nice?”

Dean paused for a moment and Sam could hear him breathing through the line. He bit his lip to keep from moaning. “Yeah. Pretty too. Bluest lake I’ve ever seen. Rooms not bad either, pretty spacious. Good bed too, the kind you just sink down into. Sheets even feel clean.”

Yeah, Dean talking about his bed was definitely helping Sam along. Much better than the talk of ghosts. “Stickin’ around?” Maybe the words sounded a little breathless but he was hoping his brother wouldn’t notice.

“For a little while, yeah.” Dean sounded a little off again and Sam had a horrible fleeting thought as to what it could mean.

His hand stopped moving, squeeze tight enough to cause a burst of pain through him. “There’s- have you met someone?”

“What?” Dean was genuinely surprised, Sam could hear it before the soft rumble of laughter. “God no Sam. Would I be callin’ so much if I had met someone?”

Sam relaxed at that and loosened his grip until the pain faded away and he could breathe easier. The idea of Dean meeting someone was just not something he could handle at that moment. “Okay. Tell me something.”

“Tell you what?” Dean laughed again then paused, Sam could imagine him tilting his head or rubbing his chest. Or maybe rubbing lower which was pretty nice to think about.

“Anything.” Sam whispered to keep another moan from falling out his lips. His hand was picking up speed now, body arching up into the touch, knowing his time was limited and he really wanted to come while listening to Dean talk.

“Uh. Alright. I thought about coming to see you not too long ago. Couple of weeks I think. I just thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see me you know? Maybe you’d be upset with me because I’m a bad brother. I should have answered on Christmas and not called so late on my birthday. Probably should be experiencing some of these moments you’re living through with you, you know?”

Sam felt a little guilty then that he was jacking off listening to Dean worrying about being a bad big brother. But he couldn’t stop his hand from moving at that point. It was too much to ignore. “No Dean. You’re not.”

“Still. I should have done so much more. Like drive you to California, check out your crappy dorm. I should have hugged you goodbye at least.” Dean’s voice was soft and almost sleepy, like a purr across the line.

That was enough to do it for Sam. The dirty wrong of the situation and Dean talking about hugging him and Sam’s hips snapped up into fist and he came all over his boxers. It was sticky and warm but thankfully Sam had swallowed down every sound. He was panting slightly, tilting the phone away so his brother wouldn’t hear.

“Sam?” Dean asked after a few moments of silence, clearly misinterpreting Sam’s silence.

“I get it.” Sam managed to whisper and closed his eyes, wiggling out of his boxers to kick them down off his feet. Now he was naked, lying in bed after just coming while his brother talked about serious things. Sam was the one who was a bad brother. “Really, I do. That whole thing sucked. Maybe a lot of things should have been different but it just. It’s done now. Can’t take it back.”

“But maybe I can make amends.” Dean breathed quiet over the line than sighed. “Should let you sleep.”

“No two AM calls okay?” Sam wanted to bring the laughter back to Dean’s words, wanted him to sound less sad and worn down.

“No two AM calls. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” Another question that had Sam’s eyes opening.

“Yeah? Okay. I’ll look for your call.” And Sam would because he felt like something big was happening here. Maybe it wouldn’t ever be what he secretly wanted but if he could reconnect with his brother, if they could bond over random phone calls, then yeah. He’d take that.

Phone charging on the nightstand, Sam curled onto his side and brought a pillow up against his chest. He could smile even as he fell asleep because knowing Dean was going to call tomorrow made him feel a lot more light headed than his orgasm from before ever could.

-=-=-=-

It became somewhat of a pattern with them, Dean’s phone calls at random times throughout Sam’s day. For the first couple of days Dean seemed to always call while Sam was in class, sometimes Sam would be in between and able to answer, other times he’d get the voicemails after. Those, oddly enough, were almost more pleasing than actually talking to his brother.

He could save them and listen over and over until he had the words memorized.

There were two calls that first day. One when Sam was in the shower in which Dean spent five minutes rambling about the right consistency of scrambled eggs – how they were gross too runny and gross too hard and only few people seemed to get them just right. Sam had listened to it while drying his hair and couldn’t help smiling at his reflection in the mirror.

He was running late so he couldn’t call his brother back and by the time he checked his phone at lunch time there was another voicemail. Sam ate a tuna sandwich and listened to his brother describe in great detail how the scent of chocolate was almost better than the taste. Sam was slightly surprised when he used words like _redolence_ and _confectionery_. It was one of those moments where he found himself questioning whether he’d underestimated his brother in some way.

On the walk home from his last class he called Dean back. His brother sounded sleepy – napping in the middle of the day no doubt – and chuckled softly when Sam called him on it. As Dean started in on the glorious water pressure at the motel he was staying in Sam thought how he’d never been more relieved to have free long distance on his phone and enough minutes to spare.

The night they talked for over an hour. It was the longest phone call Sam had ever shared with anyone which wasn’t that surprising because before he’d never considered himself the extended phone call type. But it was so easy talking to Dean, like it hadn’t been in years.

Dean asked all about his classes, making Sam tell him which teachers were the best, what subjects he enjoyed most, what he was most looking forward. Then he was all about the campus, his friend’s, the things Sam did on the weekends. Even when Sam was a kid Dean had never showed so much interest in him, almost pushing Sam away when he trailed after his big brother with what Dean called _puppy dog eyes_.

This was likely why, three days later on a crisp autumn Saturday afternoon, Sam left the library with the phone in the crook of his shoulder and a laugh on his lips to Dean’s greeting of _Heya Sammich_. “What is this Dean? I’m not complaining, seriously, but we’ve talked more in the last week than we have in years. And I thought you hated talking on the phone.”

“I just-“ The increasingly large flow of words that left Dean’s lips faltered now, Sam was a little surprised because after a week he was starting to think his brother was a bit obsessed with talking. “Sometimes you just need to hold onto something you know? And you’re all I’ve got.”

It was shocking enough to have Sam’s steps drawing to a stop. He watched multicolored leaves fall from tree in front of him, littering the sidewalk in a random disarray. Of course he _knew_ Dean didn’t have much, none of the Winchesters did and that was just, normal for them. And Sam had really considered Dean his everything for a long time, maybe his whole life, but he never thought Dean felt likewise. Sam’s heart swelled in a way that kept happening over and over in the past week.

“Why don’t you come see me for awhile? My couch is comfy, or. Well, my bed is big enough you know? I mean, you could get a motel too if you wanted. Winter break’s not too far off, you could come spend the month I have off with me.” Sam was speaking in a rush, words tumbling from his lips out of his control because it took so much effort to get himself to ask in the first place.

Silence extended across the line long enough to have Sam walking again and resigning himself to Dean’s inevitable no. “I really want to Sam. It’s just, complicated. Not sure I can make it out there right now. Soon though, I will.”

Of all the excuses Dean could have offered – a big hunt, Dad asking for his help, the car broken – this was really nothing at all. Sam felt the stab of disappointment and annoyance. “You don’t have to lie. If you don’t want to come see me it’s fine you know you could just say it. No need to placate me.”

“Jesus Sam chill the fuck down. I’m not _placating_ you. I would come see you but I can’t.” Dean sighed heavily, stressing the last word enough to make it sound almost like a whine.

Sam’s face scrunched up as his fingers slid up through his hair. “Why not? What’s going on Dean?” He had no idea how many times he’d ask that question in particular, enough to know at least that Dean wasn’t going to be answering.

“It’s- god Sam. I’ve got.” Dean’s inhale was shaky, causing a burst of static to fill the line. “It’s nothing.”

“Bull shit it’s nothing. You can call me three times a day and talk my ear almost literally off but you can’t come see me? That’s fucked up.” Sam was trying not to let himself get this annoyed but it was hard when Dean had said so many things about being a better brother, making amends. Sure phone calls were great but he wanted to _see_ his brother. Hug him. Talk to him face to face. And other things that might be adding to the tension just a little more than he’d admit.

“Let it go Sam. Seriously, just fucking let it go.”

Sam walked the next block in silence, ear still pressed hard to his ear. If it wasn’t for the soft breath filling the line he might have thought Dean had hung up on him. But Sam was always hyper aware of the little noises coming from his brother’s lips so he knew he was there.

“Alright. Sorry. I just don’t understand and I hate that you won’t tell me.” Sam pursed his lips, thankful when he rounded the corner to his apartment building. “Tell me about your day so far.”

“I fucked my pillow.” Dean shot back, sounding still a little grumpy but ending in a laugh.

Sam tripped over his shoe and coughed loudly. “Shut _up_ Dean. God. Why would you think I’d want to know that?”

“Aw Sammy we both know you like the dirty details.”

Judging from the heat on his cheeks Sam would have to say _yeah_. He liked the dirty details. And he kind of wished he was a pillow at the moment.

-=-=-=-

“You ever just listen to the bird’s Sam?”

Sam didn’t look at his caller ID before he answered but he’d already known it was going to be Dean. Eleven days into this new, whatever, and Sam was not only looking forward to the calls but he had his days planned around them. “I hear them. Which doesn’t necessarily mean I listen but I know they’re there.”

“I’ve been listening to them. There’s so many things you hear if you just listen for awhile. Like, the guy in the room next door, he likes to sing Madonna.” Dean chuckled softly.

Most likely Dean was curled under his blanket, even if it was the middle of the day. Sam had no idea why his brother wasn’t off in the real world doing normal things – or hunting which wasn’t normal but Winchester – asking Dean got him nowhere fast so he didn’t bother. “You sing along with him?” Sam teased, pushing up from his couch and heading toward his room.

“Fuckin’ hilarious Sam.” Dean grumbled, Sam could hear the slight whoosh of air leaving his mouth. “What are you doing?”

“Folding laundry.” Sam chuckled and tucked the sleeves of his shirt in. He’d become a pro at balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear by the point. “Dean-“

“This is the part where you ask huh?” Dean cut him off with a quiet sigh. “Once a day at least Sam, you ask and I keep telling you it’s fine. Just takin’ a break, takin’ some time. Why can’t that be enough for you?”

“Because it’s not that. It’s not just you taking some time Dean. We’ve been doing this for almost two weeks and _god_ I love it but seriously. I’m worried about you. Listening to birds and the guy singing Madonna in the next room? Next you’ll be doing yoga and going vegetarian.”

Dean laughed and Sam was pleased that he’d thrown in that last bit just ease off some of the tension. “I love beef far too much to turn my back on it.”

“Alright. That’s true but seriously Dean. Whatever you’re not telling me, you should trust me. Are you in trouble? Did you break your leg or something?” The facts stood that a couple of weeks ago Dean was in the hospital which meant any number of things could have happened. It was the only logical reason Sam could think of to keep Dean off the road. “Is it your arm? Some ribs? What is it?”

“Nah man, nothing broken. Some bruises and stuff but I can handle it. Nothing wrong with taking a little downtime you know?”

It was more than that, Sam was pretty sure of it. Dean was keeping some big secret from him but Sam couldn’t bring himself to pry it out of his brother. After all, Dean wasn’t the only one carrying around secrets. And he was pretty sure his brother didn’t get off listening to his voice, or dream about being tangled together under the sheets. So maybe some secrets really were best kept exactly that.

“Sam. Your thinking is hurting my brain, could you do it a little quieter?” Dean teased across the line and still Sam could imagine the smile that accompanied the words.

“Shut up.” Sam shot back easily and dropped a pair of boxers onto the clean clothes pile. The conversation drifted to something else, for now, but Sam held on to the need to know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was always this way for Sam, always just the side of a little more fucked up than everyone else. So this thing with his brother? Late night phone calls and conversations spanning over anything and everything, that was normal too right? Probably not.

The two men on the screen were touching constantly, rolling together on the bed, soft moans just barely audible above the ridiculous porn tempo. It was one of the cheesier porn movies out there but Sam had it downloaded on his laptop and it was always good enough to get him there. Though that wasn’t saying much considering just listening to his brother talk about various food items could get him there.

Sam was trying to get past that though, really, because the relationship he had with his brother now was more fragile. Sure they were building something solid and it could be great – the potential was there and stronger each day – but Sam knew he had to draw a line. It was either let himself continue to fall for his brother – even harder now since it was almost like he was viewing a different side of him – or push past it all and remain brother’s instead.

And so Sam sat and watched gay porn while desperately trying not to think about Dean’s honey silk voice in his head. Of course then his phone rang and it was Dean’s name on the caller ID and Sam was too much of a masochist – and maybe a little addicted – to resist answering.

“Hey,” he breathed a little shakily into the phone, hastily reaching out for the mute button on his computer before his brother could hear.

“God I’m bored.” Dean groaned – which really wasn’t a fair noise for him to be making while Sam’s hand was still on his cock.

“So? Do something. Watch a movie. Jack off.” This wasn’t the first time he’d done this, touch himself while talking to Dean, and he’d gotten pretty good at sounding relatively normal. Sam might be a little proud of that fact if it didn’t make him weird to think so.

“Need some inspiration.” Dean mumbled and something loud clattered in the background. “Shit. That was- god damnit.”

Sam listened as his brother continued to swear softly over the line while he fumbled to clean up whatever it was he’d knocked over. Those quiet murmurs were really doing things to Sam that shouldn’t be happening – never should – and when his brother groaned once more he moaned in return. Out loud. Clear as crystal nearly echoing over the line.

 _Shit_.

“Did I catch you in the middle of something Sam?” Dean teased, not completely freaking out thankfully. Then a quick inhale. “Shit you’re- are you with someone?”

Sam was so surprised that his brother actually thought he’d answer the phone while he was in the middle of whatever with someone that he couldn’t help laughing. “God no Dean. I wouldn’t have answered. Jesus.”

“So you answered when you were gettin’ yourself off? ‘Cause that’s normal.” Dean snorted, a burst of static accompanying the noise across the line.

Reluctantly Sam released hold of his cock. If he was going to play this off just right he needed all the brain power he could get. “Shut up Dean.”

“Aw, gettin’ embarrassed?” Dean continued to tease then silence filled the line for almost a minute. “Shit Sam, don’t be. It’s not like you were getting off to me talking.”

Sam was immensely glad hundreds of miles separated them at that moment because he flushed so brightly from head to toe it nearly lit up the room. “Right.”

Another long pause where Sam listened to Dean breathing before his brother was talking again. “You, weren’t. Right? I mean, to my voice and all.”

If possible, the flush intensified tenfold. “Gross Dean.” Sam knew there was no real heat behind that, mostly just mumbled words and shame. Here it came, the fallout. Sam wasn’t ready for it to be over so soon.

“Sam,” Dean exhaled loud enough it filled the line and made it sound like wind rushing around them. “Were you getting off to my voice?”

“Jesus.” Sam had always been the absolute worst liar out of the Winchester family. Especially when he was trying to lie to his brother. Not even this particular situation could change that.

It was quiet for awhile and Sam started counting in his mind. His brother was obviously struggling to put the pieces together, to figure out the bigger picture that he was previously left out of. Maybe determining how best to let his brother know there weren’t words for his level of wrong.

“How long?” Dean finally asked when Sam had reached almost eighty in his silent counting.

Sam swallowed thickly and closed his eyes around the sharp prick of tears. His dirty little secret about to be exposed. Dean would ask all the questions until he was satisfied then he’d probably name him the sick fuck he was and the last two and half weeks of endless phone calls would be null and void.

“Years,” Sam whispered and fell back on his bed. The sinking in his gut was nearly enough to make him vomit.

More silence. That was likely to kill Sam long before anything else did. It was like standing under a nuclear bomb and watching it fall, knowing any moment it would hit the ground and blow your world to bits. “But, we haven’t seen each other in a year and a half.”

Sam’s laugh was caught somewhere between pathetic and self loathing. “Yeah well, absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever.”

“Jesus Sam. Years? But you never said. Not a hint.”

At this Sam’s eyes opened. Maybe he was still watching the bomb aiming for his very existence but Dean wasn’t freaking out. Not the way Sam had anticipated. “How could I possibly have told you I was in love with you?”

“In love?” Dean sounded more shocked than before, as if being in love was harder to believe than just being attracted to your big brother. “Why would you want someone like me Sam? You’re amazing. You could have anyone you want. Why me?”

Sam’s heart pinched for a completely different reason now. “Dean, you’re my world. You always have been. Don’t you know? I mean, if you had told me not to go to school I wouldn’t have. Any time you gave me even the slightest sign of affection I was practically begging for more. I can’t think about anyone else. I don’t want anyone else. It’s always just been you.”

It was an amazing relief to get all of that off his chest. Sure Dean might completely lose it and that would be the bomb exploding but at least Sam wouldn’t have to take his secret to the grave. Dean knew and now the air on Sam’s side was clear. Though the continuing silence after his declaration was still just as unsettling as before.

“I don’t understand.” Dean finally whispered. Sam searched for the hint of anger and disgust in Dean’s words but he was coming up blank. “I thought. I- I thought it was just me.”

Wait.

 _What?_

“What?” Sam’s jaw dropped slightly and he sat up now in case he was dozing off or something and Dean’s words had just been in his dream.

“God Sam, why do you think I didn’t hug you goodbye? Why do you think I’ve avoided you like the plague? Hell, every time I even think of you it’s just- it fucks me up Sam. I thought I could call now and we could just be friends, that I’d get over it. But, sometimes, it’s too much to ignore. And I thought I was the only one…”

This changed… everything. Suddenly Sam felt like he was seeing a brighter world, something filled with hopes and possibilities and a life he’d never thought he wanted before. It was giddy and exciting so Sam laughed. And kept laughing until Dean’s call of his name had him cutting off. “Sorry. Sorry, _god_ , it’s just; I never thought you’d say that back to me. I thought I was a sick twisted freak for wanting you like that.”

Dean chuckled softly and Sam could hear the bed squeaking slightly in the background. “Well, you are a sick twisted freak but, I’m right there with you apparently.”

The race of Sam’s heart and the quick churn of his mind was almost unbearable, Sam didn’t even know where to begin. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Same reason you didn’t tell me. How do you even start saying something like that?” Dean laughed softly, trailing off in a soft sigh. “Well, what now?”

“I was wondering the same thing.” Sam murmured and let his head drop back onto the pillow, body stretching out across the mattress. “Come here Dean. Please? We can see each other and talk about this or…” Well, Sam could certainly fill in the details of the things he and Dean could get up to if they were to meet up once more.

“Would if I could Sam. I’d be on my way right now.” Dean sighed again but there was something close to pain in that noise.

So it wasn’t just that. Sam thought maybe this was Dean’s big dark secret, the reason he couldn’t come, being in love with your brother was complicated enough. But there still was something more and Sam was more than a little annoyed that after this, tackling the big issue there between them, Dean was still sticking to his secrets. “What is it Dean? Come on, why won’t you tell me?”

“It’s- Sam. Let’s not do this now okay? We’ve both just confessed to being sick freaks who want each other, can we just work on that issue right now?”

If Dean hadn’t sounded so worn out then Sam wouldn’t have let it drop. But since he did, and Sam really did want to cover the wanting each other thing, he let it go. “Well we can’t do much being a million miles apart huh?”

“You ever touch yourself and think of me Sammy?” Dean murmured, voice deeper now in a way Sam had never heard.

Sam’s breath hitched in his throat and he bit his lip, considering. “Yeah. I, used to watch you sleepin’ in bed when I did.”

“Jesus, right there next to me huh?” Fabric rustled across the line and Sam just barely heard the clicks of a zipper.

 _Oh God_. Was this really going to happen? Right there on the phone? “Yeah. And, recently. When we’re on the phone together, I’ve touched myself. Listening to you talk.”

“Fuck, really Sammy?” Dean groaned and behind the noise the mattress squeaked. “Recent huh? How many times?”

The heat pulsing through Sam was too much for him to ignore now. Dean’s voice was thick, deep, soaking over Sam in waves. Calling him Sammy added to the intensity. He was still just in his boxers, clearly tented up now, and Sam shoved his hand down under the elastic to grip his cock. “Three or four times.” He panted softly, fingers curling around the base.

“Doin’ it now Sam? Touchin’ yourself listenin’ to me talk?” Dean nearly moaned the words across the line.

Sam echoed his moan and arched up into his hand, trying to believe this was really happening. This was _real_. “Yes. God, yeah. Are you?”

Jolts of pleasure shot through Sam when his brother cursed quietly around a moan. “Yeah Sammy, god the way you moan. Never heard somethin’ so good.”

“Dean.” Sam twisted his wrist, slid up, stroked down. “Wanna kiss you. Want your hand instead of mine.”

“Yeah, fuck Sammy, bet it’d feel so good, me touchin’ you.” Dean was just as breathless over the phone, Sam strained to hear the sound of flesh on flesh.

“Would you fuck me Dean?” Sam closed his eyes and pictured it, Dean over him, pinning him to the bed and kissing him with a force too perfect for words.

Dean groaned, breath sharper than it had been a moment before. “Fuck. Yeah. You want that? Wanna spread your legs all eager for me so I can just take you?”

Sam could easily picture Dean there between his legs, gun calloused fingers pushing at his thigh, shoving up inside him. “God Dean,” he moaned his brother’s name like he had a thousand times before but never to an audience. Never with his brother right there through the line, listening. “Wanna feel you in me.”

“Yeah Sammy, m’gonna. Gonna fuck you right up against the wall. Gonna mark you up so everyone knows you’re mine. ‘Cause you’re mine, right Sammy? You’re all mine.”

“Y-yours.” Sam gasped and twitched his hips up into his grip, thrusting into his hand and pretending it was Dean there touching him, Dean’s mouth encasing him, everything he’d wanted for so long. “Mine.” He panted the word, too far gone to get more out.

“Yeah, all yours. Just yours.” Dean’s breaths were ragged and sharp over the line, the distant sound of skin on skin just barely there under each inhale. “Wanna touch you Sam, everywhere. Wanna bury my fingers in you and stretch you apart. God moan for me Sammy, let me hear you fall apart. Just for me.”

Wanting this for so long, hearing all these things he’d never imagined would be his, every little sound falling from his brother’s mouth, all compounded together until Sam could no longer hold back. Hot come splashed along his chest and he moaned Dean’s name, pressing the phone hard into his ear to listen to his brother falling apart. A couple of hundred miles away but the sound was right there, loud enough for Sam to pretend he was right there and watching, tasting.

They came down from their orgasms in silence, listening to each other breathe, maybe processing what had just happened. Sam could feel the press of fear, panic, like this would be the moment Dean realized how _wrong_ it all was. “Dean-“

“Don’t Sam. Don’t over think it. I can hear your brain churning so just, _stop_. Because we’re okay. This is okay.” Dean’s voice was still deeper than normal, hoarse from his moans, and Sam’s shoulders shook in a rippling response.

“This is. God Dean, we’re _brother’s_. How the hell is that okay?” Sam huffed in disbelief, closing his eyes because the ceiling was too expansive for the thoughts churning through his mind. Apparently he was going to be the one to freak out, though he’d had years to adjust to the idea.

Dean sighed in that way that said _leave it to my brother to bring down a perfectly good moment._ “Please Sam? Just let me have this okay? I can’t give you whatever answers you’re looking for but this. Just let me enjoy it right now. Please?”

Once more Sam’s eyes opened but he rolled onto his side to avoid the taunting ceiling. Never in nineteen years had Sam heard his brother beg for something like that. Something so seemingly small. How could he possibly deny his brother such a little request? Maybe he’d stop freaking out when he had some serious time to think about it. “Okay. Yeah, just this right now. But Dean, I want to see you.”

“God, I know you do Sam. And we will. Soon. I just, have some issues currently.” Dean continued to sound strained and Sam didn’t even need to close his eyes to imagine his brother pinching the bridge of his nose. “Drop it, Sam.”

Just like that the conversation was over. Sam could have pushed it but it only would have pissed his brother off and they should be somewhat basking in their shared truths and orgasms. Eventually Sam would get it out of his brother; he just hoped he was ready for whatever it might be.

-=-=-=-

In the end Sam would never know what it finally took to get his brother to spill his guts. Two days passed with mostly average conversation, except now it tended toward the pornographic at some point, with Dean spelling out all the things he wanted to do to Sam the next time they were together. The worst had been when Sam was walking home and his brother went into full detail over a blow job. Sam was so hard by the time he got back into his apartment he was coming almost the moment he shoved a hand down under his jeans.

Then, on an average Friday night when Sam was sitting at home working on math equations, Dean called. And once more everything changed.

Sam answered with a drawn out sigh, thankful for the distraction. “Man, math sucks.” He said as a greeting, smiling softly as he waited for Dean’s voice to fill the line.

“Sam? I’m blind.”

Of all the things Sam might have guessed were Dean’s excuse for not coming to see him, this was nowhere close. He thought back to all their conversations, searching for some hint that it had been there all along and Sam hadn’t even noticed. It was the little things he supposed, Dean’s lack of moving, the way he was always in bed, the fact that Sam had never heard him mention a movie he might have been watching, only the sounds that he heard.

“Sam? You there?” Dean sounded nervous, unsure, like Sam might disown him for having such an imperfection.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Sam whispered, still stunned and confused. Dean, _blind_ , how was he even getting by?

“Not the easiest thing to say.” Dean sighed heavily and pressed on before Sam could hound him for details. “Happened on the hunt, retinal detachment. Everything was just blurry at first then it faded and now it’s just, darkness.”

“Jesus.” Sam sucked in a loud breath, chest aching on his brother’s behalf. “But that’s- can’t they repair that? With technology now-a-days they should be able to right?”

“Yeah they can, the doctor explained the surgery to me and stuff.” The only way to describe Dean’s voice now was childish. As if Sam was a father figure about to ream him big time for keeping the truth hidden.

Sam was moving before he could even think about it, heading for his bedroom and tugging out the duffel bag at the bottom of the closet. “So what’s the issue? Why haven’t you done the surgery?”

“Too expensive. My insurance won’t cover it and I just, there’s no way I could afford it.”

“How much is it?” Sam had money, student loans and a part time job, funds he hadn’t really dipped into since it was all being saved up for his future. Or, as it turned out, for his brother who had been too stubborn to admit his own weakness.

“No Sam. I can’t- you. It’s fine. I’ll figure it out, but you can’t cover it okay?” There should have been more heat to Dean’s words for the protest, the fact that there wasn’t simply told Sam he’d only protest so much. Clearly he had nothing figured out.

“Dean? Listen to me, you are my brother and you happen to also be the man I’m in love with. So if you seriously think I’m just going to leave you sitting around without- _Jesus_ you can’t _see_. How the hell am I supposed to just stay here knowing that?” Sam shook his head roughly even as he dug a hand into his drawer to pull some clothes free and stuff them into his duffel bag. “So stop being an idiot and let me help you.”

His brother sigh was weary and worn but Sam knew the tone. He was giving in, letting Sam have his way like he had so many times when they were younger. “Fine. But not tonight. Leave in the morning or something after you’ve had a full night to sleep and seriously think about things.”

“Okay. Fine. I’ll leave in the morning.” Sam said quietly, dropping his bag onto the floor. He’d finish packing when he got off the line, until then he was getting all the facts. “Now tell me exactly what happened.”

While Dean spoke, Sam booted up his laptop and began planning. As it turned out the water ghost thing Dean had fought turned out to be a little stronger than first anticipated. There had been some fighting and since the drowned man’s body was never found Dean had difficulty figuring out what was keeping him tied to this world. It had turned out to be part of his boat, maybe something as small as a hair caught in the boards, but enough to keep him bound to the world.

As Dean had been in the process of salting and burning the boat, just after the first match was set, the ghost had appeared and pulled Dean under the water with enough force to send his head crashing brutally hard into the rocky surface of the lake. Apparently only a miracle had resulted in Dean still being alive. The boat had burned and the ghost had let him free but not before he’d swallowed too much water and lost too much blood. Some people that happened to be passing by saw his body in the water and dragged him out onto the surface, performing CPR until the paramedics turned up.

There had been two days of unconscious with Dean at the hospital and then when he woke it was only to darkness. As the doctor said, the force of his collision in the back of the head had caused retinal detachment. The doctor explained that Dean could have a vitrectomy to repair the damage to his eyes and he’d be seeing again in no time. Only the procedure without insurance to cover it cost ten thousand dollars. The amount was enough to have Sam’s jaw dropping. No wonder Dean had protested his helping, that was a _lot_ of money.

Thankfully Sam’s scholarship had covered all of his schooling so the student loan money he’d received over the past year and a half made up for the good majority of it. The extra would come from the part time work Sam had been doing. It was going to drain all of his finances to make this happen but Sam didn’t care. He couldn’t at that point. In fact, he was even going to use the credit card he’d gotten in his own name. Originally it had been to build up his credit, using it for small purchases and paying back instantly. Now it would be enough to get him a car for the drive there.

“Okay, it’s a thirteen hour drive. Dean? Is there a way for you to call the doctor? I want you to call them and schedule the surgery for Monday. I will be there late tomorrow, Sunday we’ll… rest. Catch up. And Monday you can do the surgery. Then I’m bringing you back here.” Sam was already hooking up his laptop to the printer, watching the pages of directions print out.

“What? No Sam. I can’t come back there. What about my car? What about your school?” Dean was sitting up now; Sam could hear the creak of the mattress around the heavy exhale from his brother. “I can’t let you do that Sam.”

“Well you better get the fuck over it because it’s _exactly_ what I’m going to do. Now stop arguing and tell me, can you get a hold of the doctor?” Sam gathered up the pages and carried them to his room, sorting through things to pack up once more.

“Yeah they programmed it into my speed dial.” Dean groaned.

Pursing his lips slightly, Sam stared down at the bed and tried to imagine how his brother must feel. He’d never been very good at being helpless. “Good. How have you been eating Dean? Have you even left the motel room?”

“Not really. They’ve kind of taken pity on me here so I can get things delivered pretty easily. The guy who owns this place, his daughter came by a few days ago and washed my clothes. Think she might have seen some stuff but it’s okay, she knew about the ghost and stuff and knew I was working on it. It’s a nice town.”

Ridiculously, Sam felt the pinch of jealous at the thought of the girl coming in and comforting Dean, being there in his hour of need, knowing more about Dean than Sam apparently did. He shook it off pretty quickly though. “Okay. Good. Now I’m going to get a rental car and I’ll find a place near your motel to drop it off at then I’ll drive the Impala back okay? And look Dean, you coming here, it’s not even a question okay? You’re going to need somewhere to heal and there’s no better place for you then here.”

“Sam?” Dean whispered, voice sounding caught and vice tight.

Sam stopped shoving a pair of boxers into the duffel bag and frowned. “What?”

“It’s gonna be good to see you. Or well, touch you anyway. Can’t see much of anything.”

This time Sam’s heart pinched for another reason all together and he smiled softly. “Yeah Dean, it will be.”

-=-=-=-

Sam set his alarm for five and was on the road within a half hour of getting up. His brother would probably be pissed if he knew he left so early but Sam couldn’t wait any longer. The idea of being with Dean again was better than coffee on his system, giving him a rush of adrenaline to move quickly even if the sun had yet to rise.

Finding a rental car had turned out to be easy, especially booking online with his credit card. A simple phone call to the office had gotten him the early pick up and it was barely six by the time Sam was on the highway heading for Stanley, Idaho. Sam was too distracted by thoughts to even imagine playing music. It was all _Dean, Dean, Dean_. Sam couldn’t wait to see him, to be near him, to act out some of those things they’d talked about on the phone.

There was the beyond too, caught in Sam’s mind with sickening realization. So they’d get Dean fixed up and he’d have his sight back and Sam would have everything he ever wanted as his once more. And then Dean would get completely better and he had no life there at Stanford. There was no way Sam would be enough to get Dean to leave his life of hunting behind. Where would they go from there?

Right around the time Sam was crossing the Nevada border into Idaho, hour eight of his drive, it hit him. He knew _exactly_ what he had to do. Facts remained that Sam had been so desperately searching for his own life and his own path away from his brother because his feelings were too strong and so inappropriate it was killing him. But if Dean felt the same, then why would Sam even consider living any other type of life? All he wanted was Dean. And maybe hunting wasn’t always his favorite thing but so much of that had factored into feelings he couldn’t handle. With those no longer hidden than the options were clear and the decision was almost crystal clear.

By the time Sam pulled into Stanley, Idaho he felt worn, exhausted from the long trip in the car with hardly any stops. But just under that, there was the ever constant hum of excitement. It was the closest he’d been to his brother in so long; Sam could hardly believe it was real. He dropped the car off at the rental place and took a taxi to the motel, heart lurching in his chest at the sight of the Impala in the parking lot.

Bag curled under his arm Sam paid the driver before slowly crossing the parking lot to stop at room ten, knowing Dean was just on the other side. Was it strange to be nervous just then? Sam couldn’t say for sure. Maybe they’d been building up to this moment for a long time, years of traveling down one path then the next to get to this point right here.

“It’s open.” Dean called the moment Sam’s fist tapped on the door.

Sam held his breath and pushed it open, stepping inside, letting the door fall closed behind him with a click. There was Dean, standing at the edge of the bed looking toward Sam but not directly at. If seeming the Impala had made his heart leap then seeing his _brother_ made Sam’s knees dip and threaten to give out.

“Dean,” he whispered, inhaled once and crossed the room at a pace that was nearly running. In one swoop he had Dean in his arms, pulling his body as close as possible and tightening him in what could have been a painful hold but wasn’t. “God Dean.”

Hands clutched at his shoulders, pulling Sam’s jacket tight in fists. “Sammy,” Dean sounded relieved even when the name caught on his tongue. “Fuck, I’m glad you’re here.”

Sam’s laugh was choked around tears and he clawed his hands up through Dean’s hair, down his shoulders, gripping at his arms to pull him back enough to look at his face. There was a milky cream coating over Dean’s eyes but they moved ceaselessly, like he was searching for Sam’s image but couldn’t quite grasp it. “Dean,” he whispered for the third time in a row and cupped his brother’s jaw, sliding fingers reassuringly along his skin.

Then Dean’s hands were coming up from his shoulder and finding their way to Sam’s hair instead, a small smile growing on Dean’s lips. “Your hair’s longer. You still got a thing against getting haircuts?”

When Sam laughed it was only because that was so _Dean_ it was like he’d just stepped back in time. “Phobia of scissors.” He murmured and swayed forward, turning at the last moment so his lips touched the corner of his brother’s, not quite strong enough to take that final step in blurring their relationship completely.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to be. Dean caught his jaw and kept Sam there; turning to slant his lips over Sam’s and kiss him. _Kiss_. Sam had spent so many years imagining tasting these lips that he’d almost been worried about it not living up to his expectations. That wasn’t the case at all. This was perfect, tingling, and soft and Sam never could have imagined this perfection no matter how often he tried.

Suddenly it was hands everywhere, the pull of fabric and the spark of skin on skin. Maybe every moment of their lives was just leading to this point; maybe Sam couldn’t stand the idea of not taking this the moment and having every little thing he’d been dreaming about for so long. It was heated breaths and long, deep kisses until finally they were there on the bed and Sam hadn’t even registered falling.

“Need you Sammy,” Dean gasped and his hands were everywhere, touching every inch of Sam’s skin. Sam thought he might be making up for his inability to see, reassuring himself by touches and lingering kisses.

If that was what his brother needed to fix things in that moment then Sam was more than ready to offer it. There wasn’t even a question or doubt in his mind. Not a moment of hesitation as Dean removed Sam’s jeans, fumbled out of his own, slid back so their skin could roll together knees to hips to chests to lips. Dean tasted like apple pie and beer – so much like his brother that Sam moaned.

The first touch of a hand around his cock was fumbled. The backs of knuckles making him jolt, the tips of fingers sliding with surprising delicacy. Dean caressed him like he was fragile, or maybe like he was trying to savor and treasure this moment. Sam was going for that because he was a tad romantic.

A surprised laugh left Sam’s lips when Dean rolled to the side and returned a few seconds longer with a bottle of lube. “Always prepared,” Sam murmured, drawing Dean in for another kiss, addicted to those lips like he knew he would be if he ever got the chance.

Dean smiled – half smirk – and his eyes fixed on a point just above Sam’s body. It made Sam’s stomach churn with something not pleasure so he pulled Dean over him again, wanting that feeling erased. A low moan echoed between them as their cocks slid together in a delicious graze of overheated skin. Sam’s fingers curved and clawed at Dean’s shoulders, pushing him down, spreading his legs wantonly without shame.

Another series of clumsy, careful touches as Dean searched his body and learned the feel without the ability to see. Though Sam would never wish blindness on his brother he almost preferred this to how it might be if he could see. He knew if Dean had sight the touches would be all grace and well practiced finesse, somehow this made it more real.

The first finger entering him was smooth and cool, lubed skin gliding easily forward and pushing in deep. Sam’s eyes fluttered closed with his low moan and shot open again at the first touch of wet heat to his already over stimulated cock. Watching Dean’s lips descend over his swollen skin was enough to make him almost come. He schooled it back and stared with parted lips.

“Jesus Dean,” Sam gasped, dropping back to the bed and clutching the sheets. The whole drive he’d thought of this, and longer before then he cared to admit, but it would never compare. And he’d thought maybe later, maybe when Dean could see again. The fact that Dean wanted him too much to wait even a minute had Sam’s hips jolting forward into that silky heat.

There was a slight burn with the second finger, not altogether unpleasant, and Sam couldn’t decide which way his body wanted to move. Up into Dean’s mouth, down onto his fingers, hips rolling and writhing from the type of pleasure he’d never be able to find with anyone else. “Dean, please. More.”

“Mm, beggin’. I like that Sammy.” Dean nearly growled the words, hot puffs of air falling over Sam’s cock, shooting pleasure up his spine in curls and collides of white sparking heat.

Sam opened his mouth to say something snarky back, or to moan out Dean’s name, or to beg even more, but a third finger shoving hard up in him effectively stopped any words on his tongue. Instead he groaned and road out the burn and stretch and pull. Dean and pleasure and _real_. It was a miracle Sam hadn’t come yet.

There was no way Sam could say how long Dean stretched him open and laved long drags of his tongue up along his cock. Minutes, hours, days, it was all _Dean_. Then it was nothing at all and Sam groaned, hating the loss for the few seconds it took for Dean to crawl up and gather Sam’s legs up, bending him in a way he hadn’t realized he was flexible enough for.

This was a moment Sam regretted Dean’s inability to see. Their eyes might have locked but Dean wasn’t looking quite at him, gaze slightly off centered and to the left. Sam cupped his cheek and pushed up, bringing their lips together in a kiss much softer than their previous. Now Dean tasted like salt and skin and _Sam_ which he liked better than the apple pie and beer.

“Do it. Fuck me.” Sam ordered – or begged – and Dean chuckled softly and shifted back. A heartbeat or two of lingering emptiness then Dean was pushing forward, splitting Sam open in a way he’d never felt.

Sam felt every inch push inside him, encouraging Dean’s progress with soft murmurs until they were completely connected. Then, maybe, Sam stopped breathing for awhile. He stared up at Dean with a mixture of shock and wonder, telling himself this was really happening, that all the years of wanting hadn’t been for nothing.

With Dean’s first movement Sam breathed again. It was inhale, pull out, exhale, thrust in. Dean wasted no preamble going slow. He fucked into Sam with sharp precise thrusts, the third, fourth, and fifth landing right into Sam’s prostate. Beneath them the bed Sam had been hearing in the background for weeks squeaked in protest, riding out the motion of bodies colliding.

Sam’s calves dug into Dean’s shoulders, pressure on his thighs and chest as Dean’s hands moved everywhere. The noises from Dean’s lips were a cross between keens and groans, Sam’s name occasionally slipping through as a moan. Sam was far too caught up to make any noise at all, to even think beyond _more, more, god yes._

It was over with the touch of Dean’s hand around his cock. Two quick strokes following more than a dozen hard thrusts and Sam lost control. His body jolted up off the bed, driving Dean impossibly deeper and clenching around him. Sam knew his nails scraping down Dean’s arms would leave marks and later he’d lick them all to remember this moment.

Now though it was his orgasm burning across his eyes and shooting sparks along his skin. Colorful metaphors could never adequately describe how Sam felt in that moment. Or how he felt a few moments later when Dean moaned out his name in a slow drawl and came within him. Just like he would never be able to logically explain the way his heart swelled and nearly burst when Dean collapsed on top of him and pulled him close, stroked a hand through his hair and murmured quietly words of adoration in their afterglow.

For awhile Sam was just loose muscles, spent and sated sprawled out on the mattress. Dean eventually pulled back and rolled to the side, Sam followed, curving against his body, not giving Dean the chance to protest the cuddling. Since Dean’s arms just moved around him, Sam figured there wasn’t much of a protest in the works.

“We could’ve enjoyed this awhile ago if we weren’t both so emotionally retarded.” Dean grunted after awhile, fingers stroking idly through Sam’s hair.

Sam laughed quietly and nodded, laying his hand flat against Dean’s chest. “Or if you weren’t such a stubborn ass and fessed up to being _blind_ then I would have been here sooner.”

“Because logically I would have jumped you right away regardless.” Dean huffed, the smile clear in his words.

“I am pretty irresistible.” Sam knew the grin he was wearing was ridiculous but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Here he could hear Dean’s heart beat and inhale and smell him, everywhere. “Did you make an appointment?”

“Monday at ten.” If Sam didn’t know better he might have thought Dean sounded nervous. Maybe he was, going under some laser to get his eyes repaired, that was a pretty big fucking deal. “You’ll be there right?”

A slow smile pulled at Sam’s lips and he nodded. “Yes. I’m not leaving you now Dean.”

“Good.” Dean whispered and dipped forward for a kiss, hitting Sam’s cheek and moving to pull back until Sam turned the rest of the way to complete the touch.

-=-=-=-

Sunday they didn’t do much outside the essentials: eat, sleep, fuck. It was maybe the best Sunday of Sam’s entire life, even if he felt the sharp flare of pain whenever Dean’s eyes searched out but never quite settled on him. So many years Dean had been the one Sam had always looked to, strong in the face of any peril, wise beyond his years. For the first time ever Dean was leaning on him in a way that spoke of needing reassurance and love and hope. It was only natural for Sam to do whatever he could.

When they woke Monday morning the mood was much more subdued. Dean didn’t put up any sort of fuss when Sam followed him to the shower, helped him get clean and get dressed, helped him into the car and moved around to the driver’s side. Sam didn’t tell his brother how nervous he was but the way Dean grabbed his hand he was fairly sure he knew.

At the hospital Sam kissed Dean the second step inside. When Dean tilted his head back and moaned into the kiss Sam’s heart flipped. “You’re gonna be okay.” He whispered along his brother’s lips, pulling him in for a hug.

“Yeah. I’ll see you soon Sammy.” Dean squeezed him back and laughed softly, using a joke to ease the tension of the moment. It was all very _Dean_ and Sam chuckled softly because of the fact.

One thing eased the feeling for Sam. Dean was _his_ and this had never been more true. After all the years of pining without having and wishing without daring to speak up, Sam didn’t think fate could be so cruel as to separate them now. Not when they finally had the chance for more. Knowing this kept Sam strong, patient, made him focus on the papers he had to fill out while the nurse took him back to surgery.

It only took a few hours. Sam kept himself busy by feeling out official paperwork from his school. He printed off the forms at the place he’d dropped the rental car off at, not giving his brother a choice in the matter. Because Dean might try and talk him out of it and that wasn’t something Sam would allow. Not this, not when it could be so perfect. And would be, once Dean was all better.

The doctor came out to get him after awhile and Sam was so relieved he could almost pass out, or kiss the man; neither would likely go over well. Dean was going to be okay, Dean would see again once he’d had some time to heal, they could do this. The surgery was out patient so the doctor was quick to give Sam prescriptions and ensure he’d adequately paid before sending them on their way.

Seeing Dean with his eyes wrapped in bandages was almost as unnerving as watching him trying to settle his gaze on something without managing. Sam stared for a long moment not having the right words to say. Then Dean tilted his head and a slight smile formed across his lips.

“I can tell you’re there.” He murmured, sleepily, holding out his hand.

Sam mirrored the smile even if his brother couldn’t know and crossed to him, reaching out until his fingers could thread through Dean’s. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Fucking ready to see.” Dean grunted but kept smiling and squeezed Sam’s hand comfortingly. “Still get those dimples when you smile?”

Grinning once more, letting _those dimples_ grow across his cheeks, Sam stepped forward and dropped his forehead to Dean’s. “You don’t grow out of dimples Dean.”

“Thank god.” Dean whispered, sounding somewhere close to relieved. Sam wasn’t sure he knew what to make of that. “Take me out of here Sammy.”

Sam was all too happy to oblige.

-=-=-=-

Maybe Sam should have let them hang out at the motel room one more day, left Tuesday morning just to be safe. Dean wanted to go right then and there; Sam couldn’t say he felt much different on the subject. They stopped at a local drug store, Dean waited in the car while Sam went in, filled the prescription for pain pills and two different types of eye drops. He also picked up some easy to eat and drive foods and a couple of ice packs to help with the swelling in Dean’s eyes.

That weird feeling of parallel universes or something kept racking through Sam as he began the drive back to California. It was him driving when Dean usually did and Dean slumping against his side and snuggling close like Sam used to do before they got too big. Sam would never tell Dean he was too big cuddle, he only hoped it lasted once Dean was completely healed.

Compared to all the talking they’d done on the phone in the past couple of weeks, the trip in the car was oddly quiet. Mostly Dean slept the surgery and pain pills making him tired and groggy. Sam woke him a few times to eat, to get out and stretch his legs, to take off the bandages when the sun had set and use the eye drops instead.

The doctor had explained that the surgery’s success was mainly due to the injury not being quite as bad as they’d originally thought. This was good news, meaning Dean should recovery fairly quickly if he followed the doctor’s orders and didn’t try and over work himself. Sam, who was still had lingering doubts and uncertainties, couldn’t help fearing what might happen in the aftermath.

At some point Dean spoke against his arm. “Don’t let me fuck up like that again Sammy.”

Sam had no intention of letting that happened. He was going to have Dean’s back from then on out. “As long as you swear we won’t keep big things from each other anymore.”

Dean chuckled and pat his thigh. “No more secrets. Just you and me Sam. You and me always.” Sam was pretty sure the medicine was mostly responsible for the soft affectionate tone. He didn’t mind though, Dean was better – or going to be – and that was all that mattered.

They didn’t make it back to Stanford until late Monday night – or early Tuesday morning as it was – and Sam couldn’t help grinning as he helped his drugged out sleepy brother up the stairs to his apartment. Even with him grumbling most of the way about the walk Sam knew this moment for what it was. Or could be. The starting point for some epic grand adventure of Winchester glory. He was either terrified or thrilled, too tired to pick out which.

It felt different, curling up against Dean there in his bed. This was Sam’s home and Dean was a part of it not like an addition that the space had to conform to but as if he were always meant to be between the sheets and in Sam’s arms. It was a wonderful thing that Sam latched onto and smiled about even as he passed out.

-=-=-=-

Sam could tell Dean’s sight was coming back in little ways. Like occasionally he’d catch his brother staring, eyes narrowed, as if he could find Sam in the darkness. Gradually it shifted to more and more things, Dean making his way through the apartment unassisted, not calling out for Sam like he usually would. Sam stopped going to class but Dean didn’t seem to notice.

Instead Sam filed papers with the main offices and dropped out, choosing _hunting_ when he’d never thought he would. Though really, it wasn’t choosing hunting, it was choosing Dean. Really? There had never been a question there.

So when the time came, when Dean was completely healed, Sam knew he’d made the right choice and his brother would have to agree.

Dean collapsed to the side panting heavily, withdrawing from Sam but pulling him close. “Fuck it’s good to actually see your face when I do that.”

Sam grinned and tipped his head toward Dean, humming softly. “You can see everything now?”

“Yeah. Dimples and all.” Dean chuckled quietly and slid a hand down his side.

There might have been dimples at the edge of his curved up lips but they dimmed slightly. He’d put it off long enough and there was no avoiding it. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, it shouldn’t even be a question in either of their minds. Not when they’d come so far, grown so much, become more to each other than they ever had been before.

“God Sam, didn’t I fuck you into oblivion? Seriously, stop thinkin’ so loud.” Dean smacked his ass, squeezing it for good measure.

“I’m going with you when you leave.” Sam murmured, curling into Dean’s side, hooking his leg over Dean’s as if to prove he wouldn’t let them have an inch of space between them.

“Are you?” There was a definite choked note to Dean’s words, surprise of the pleasant kind Sam thought.

“Do you really have to ask?” Sam smiled against Dean’s shoulder, lips pressing hard into skin. “Where else would I want to be?”

“School Sam. You left for a reason.” Dean exhaled, tentative, unsure. It hurt just a little to think that Dean wouldn’t already know.

“Because I knew how I felt about you and I knew it wouldn’t go away. Dean,” Sam rolled up onto his elbow and stared down at his brother, smiling softly, brighter when Dean’s eyes found his in the half light from the moon. “You’re crazy if you think I wouldn’t want to have you now that I can. So, as long as you want me to I-“

Whatever else Sam might have said was cut off by the hard press of lips against his own. They echoed moans into the kiss and it was perfect in every way that was morally wrong. Sam couldn’t believe it had taken so long to get to this point but then, some of the best things were worth waiting for.

~Fin~


End file.
